“Do I know you, sir?” he asked, holding out a hand to delay Egil.
“I think not,” replied Egil, pausing. “I have not before come to these parts.”
The man canted his head. “I am Baron Steiger of Duchy Rache. And you are…?”
Egil tilted his head in a like manner and said, “I am Egil…of here and there. If we had met, I would have remembered.”
“Yet your face looks familiar,” said the baron, “though it seems to me that perhaps I saw it in different circumstances altogether, just when or where I cannot recall. Yet give me time. I will recollect.”
Egil smiled and said, “If you do, sir, then let me know. They say that each man has a double; perhaps you will lead me to mine.” He glanced up the hall, where the others waited. “And now, sir, good morn to you.” And he bowed and turned on his heel.
As Egil strode away and rejoined the others, Steiger stood stroking his chin. Just as the retinue began to move off, the baron’s eyes widened, and he whirled and hurried away.
* * *
“What was that all about?” asked Alos.
“Someone who thought he knew me,” replied Egil.
“Perhaps he does,” said Aiko.
Egil shook his head. “If he does, then it was from elsewhere, for I’ve not been here before.”
“Not to Jute?”
“No, no. Not to Königinstadt. I’ve been to Jute with Orri, but it was a goodly distance up the coast.”
“Mayhap,” said Arin, “it has something to do with the memories thou canst not recall.”
Egil’s eye flew wide. “You mean the memories Ordrune stole from me?”
“Mayhap.”
Egil turned and looked back at the way they had come, but Baron Steiger was no longer there.
* * *
They were ensconced high up in the east tower, in a modest room with a windowed doorway leading to a balcony looking west. The room itself was furnished with a large, canopied four-poster with heavy drapes hanging down, a long leather couch, a small table and two chairs, a tall, wide cabinet which proved to be a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. A small chamber, with a curtain for a door, adjoined the room, and it held a privy pot as well as a low chest of drawers containing towels and linens and on which sat a large pitcher of water and a wash basin and soap.
“There is a common bathing room ’round the hall,” said the steward, stepping to the door. “The chamberboy will show you the way.” He turned and called, “Dolph!”
A slight, black-haired lad popped into the chamber. He was perhaps eleven, and an iron collar graced his neck. He bowed to the four, his pale blue eyes widening at the sight of the Dylvana and the yellow Ryodoan. The steward arched a brow at the youth, then turned to Egil and said, “Dolph will see to your needs.” He then bowed and withdrew.
When the steward was gone, Egil turned to Dolph. “We caught but a glimpse of the estate as we rode in from the city, lad. May we freely tour the grounds?”
“Ja, sir,” replied the chamberboy. “At liberty to roam you are where you will…all but the queen’s spire.”
“Queen’s spire?”
“Ja, there.” The lad pointed out the window at the central tower. “Her private quarters those are. The balcony to her bedchamber from here you can see.”
“Oh, which one?”
“That is the one at the top, sir.”
Egil glanced up at the balcony, but it stood empty.
Aiko stepped over and looked as well, then she turned to Egil and shrugged.
“Is there aught else you need?” asked the youth.
“Chewing sticks and mint leaves,” said Aiko, and Alos groaned in response.
As the boy turned to go, Egil said, “If we are not here when you return, we will be exploring the castle and grounds, should anyone ask.”
“Ja, sir. On your way back if finding these quarters you have trouble, any servant just ask for the way; the green room of the east tower this is. To direct you they will be able.”
“What’s your name again, boy?” asked Alos.
“Dolph.”
“Well, Dolph, we’ve not yet broken our fast. When and where do we eat?”
“Each tower a dining hall has down below—of course is best the east one. At dawn and mid of day and twilight meals are served, anytime you can eat though as guests. Here to your room food I can fetch, if rather you would. Of course, to the great hall you’ll be going for the banquet tonight. A bell all will summon.”
“And the great hall?”
“The central wing, sir, it is.”
“Well and good, boy. Well and good.”
Dolph looked from one to the other. “Breakfast to fetch would you like me?”
Aiko shook her head. “No. Just the chewing sticks and mint. We will find our own way to a meal.”
As Dolph sped from the room on his errand, Egil said, “Let us break fast and then explore, gauge the defenses and the lay of the land and the plan of the buildings. We may need a quick way out, and depending upon what we find, we can set our strategy. Too, I would look for Baron Steiger; perhaps he remembers where we met. If not, even so, he may yield a clue as to my stolen memories.”
* * *
After their morning meal, they strolled the grounds, passing among flower gardens and limpid pools containing what Alos called “calico fishies” but which Aiko named “koi.” Aiko stood a moment at the edge of one of the pools; the brightly scaled fish swam to the surface as if they expected to be fed. “My father told me that in the pools of Lord Yodama there were many of these uo. They are highly prized in Ryodo.” She stood a moment more, gazing down as if lost in thought. Then she spun on her heel and walked away, wiping her cheeks with the heels of her hands.
On they wended ’round the hill, and they came upon a hedge maze. Arin grabbed Egil by the hand and, laughing, pulled him into the labyrinth. They wandered through its convoluted corridors, lost, but finally found themselves at what they believed was the center, for there on a pedestal stood a white marble statue of a nude young woman, life-sized and lifelike in every detail. Affixed to the base was a golden plaque engraved Die Königin Gudrun die Schöne.
“Dost thou think it is our hostess?” asked Arin, eyeing the form critically.
“If it is,” replied Egil, grinning, “modesty is not among her virtues.”
Now Arin smiled and, standing on tiptoe, kissed Egil on the cheek. Then she took him by the hand and turned to go, just as Aiko and Alos came to the labyrinth center.
“Huah,” exclaimed Alos, walking around the sculpture and viewing it from all sides.
Aiko, though, glanced at the plaque and asked, “What does it say?”
“Queen Gudrun the Comely,” replied Alos.
“Ah so,” mused Aiko. “If faithful in every detail, then perhaps we look upon the like of our mad monarch.”
Alos, completing his circuit, asked, “Why do you suppose she has such a work sitting out where everyone can see?”
Aiko shrugged, but Egil said, “Perhaps this is why she is called ‘mad.’”
“Mayhap so,” said Arin. “It is a puzzle, nevertheless.”
Egil nodded in agreement, then said, “Come. Let us go. There is much yet to see, and I would know the ground on which we stand. As I said before, there may come a time when we will need to know the best way to take flight.”
“Or the best place to stand and fight,” added Aiko.
“Aye,” replied Egil, “or fight.”
“Don’t forget the rutting peacock,” said Alos. “It is, after all, why we are here.”
All three looked at Alos, as if surprised.
“Well I said I would go this far,” snapped the oldster. “But no farther, d’ y’ hear? No farther.”
Arin smiled. “Come. Let us leave.”
They wandered through the labyrinth only to find themselves back at the statue. “Well, this is a puzzle, all right,” declared Egil. “Easy to get in; hard to get out.”
Again
they turned to go, wending through the hedges, but found themselves at the statue once more.
“Y’ know,” grumped Alos, “a person could starve in here.”
As they strode away from the statue, Egil said, “When next we find ourselves at the center, we should think on marking our way so we’ll know where we’ve been.”
Moments later they stood at the statue again.
Aiko rested her hands on the pommels of her swords. “I am of a mind to hack straight through.”
Egil looked up at the form. “Perhaps this is why she’s called mad—putting such a trap on her grounds, a trap that just anyone can wander into.”
“Do you think it’s cursed?” asked Alos.
Suddenly Aiko’s eyes flew wide, and she turned to Arin. “Dara”—Aiko gestured at the statue— “could this be the cursed keeper of faith in the maze?”
Now Arin’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, my.”
Egil shook his head. “The Queen of Jute? Could she be both?”
Alos frowned. “Both?”
Egil held up two fingers. “The mad monarch and the cursed keeper of faith in the maze?”
“Oh,” said Alos, enlightened.
All three looked at Arin, but she turned up her hands. “I do not know.”
Egil sighed. “That’s the trouble with redes and prophecies: they are riddles: a person never knows what in Hèl they mean until they come true. Why can’t they simply be plain?”
He looked from one to another, yet none could answer his question, though Aiko said, “Who knows the ways of madmen and gods and prophecies?”
“Well, I think none of us will ever know even if we do escape from this maze,” said Egil. “Regardless, let’s get out.”
Aiko nodded and started to draw her sword, but Arin gestured No. “I believe I can set us free from this trap, and then we shall deal with the question of the queen as the keeper of faith in a maze.”
Arin turned and looked at the maze in her special way, as if attempting to
Free from the hedge maze, they continued on ’round the grounds, encircling the castle proper, scanning walls and defenses, noting where stood doorways, eyeing places where they could conceal themselves if it came to such, noting as well the barricade encircling the hill, with its ramps and banquettes and gorges, and noting as well where men patrolled and where others stood sentry.
Directly behind the castle and a bit downslope they came upon a small granite courtyard enclosed by a low wall. The stone within was blackened, as if scorched repeatedly by fire. The way in was barred by a latched, low-set, wrought-iron gate. Scrollwork across the gate spelled out the word “Geliebter.”
“What does it mean?” asked Aiko.
“Beloved,” replied Alos. “Er, ‘beloved man,’ I think.”
At a questioning glance from Arin, Egil said, “Funeral pyres.”
Arin nodded, and they turned away.
They had circled perhaps three-quarters of the whole, when they came in among open-sided buildings set apart from the castle and housing caged animals on display.
“The mad queen’s zoo,” hissed Egil, so as not to be heard by nearby attendants.
They passed among confined snow jackals and cinnamon argali and mountain springers and black renders and other animals they could not name—all trapped in cages too small, where they paced or cowered or lay dull-eyed and inactive.
Now the four came in among the mews. Here they found raptors—trained hunting birds: grey falcons, red hawks, black kestrels, golden eagles. Among these raptors stepped an iron-collared attendant, removing the hoods from the perched birds and feeding them gobbets of raw meat.
“I say,” called out Alos, “be these all of the birds?”
The thrall looked around and, spying them, removed his hat and said, “Die allgemein Sprache kann ich nicht.”
“Ung,” grunted Alos. “He doesn’t speak common.” The oldster then called out, “Mehr Vogel? Wo?”
The man’s face lit up. “Ah.” He gestured northward. “Dort bei der Teich gibt es Geflügel.”
Alos smiled and sketched a bow and said, “Wir danken Ihnen.” The man held his hat to his chest and bowed low. Alos then turned to the others. “He says there’s more birds, fowl, that is, down by the pond.”
They stepped from the mews and turned to the north and started down the slope. Just ahead and below they could see a small mere dug into the hillside, its far perimeter an earthen dam. As they approached, quacking ducks and gabbling geese paddled toward them, as if expecting a handout. But these common fowl were not what captured the gazes of the foursome. Instead it was a large iridescent bird with a crested head and brilliant blue-green plumage. When it saw them coming it spread wide its great tail coverts, and each of these long feathers was marked with an iridescent eyelike spot.
“Adon,” breathed Arin, “it is beautiful.”
“Is it our rutting peacock?” asked Alos, turning to Aiko.
“A peacock, yes,” she replied. “Rutting, I cannot say, for I see no peahens nearby.” Aiko gazed about, then gasped and stepped down to the edge of the mere, where she squatted and plucked out of the water a floating tail feather of the peacock. She glanced up at Arin and raised the plume, its eye-spot scintillant. “Dara, is this a one-eye in dark water as well?”
Arin sighed and shrugged, but Egil said, “Damnation. Are we to be plagued with symbols and portents, none of which we can be certain represents the truth?”
“Ha,” barked Alos. “Now we have three different one-eyes in dark water: Egil, a feather, and me.” He gestured over his shoulder. “And back there is a statue that might or might not represent a cursed keeper of faith in the maze. And here before us is what might be a mad monarch’s rutting peacock, except there isn’t a thing to rut, unless of course he rides the ducks and geese. What progress we are making, eh?”
Aiko shook her head and held up four fingers. “You left out one of the one-eyes, Alos: the honeyed Troll’s eye we keep in a sack.”
“Eep!” squeaked Alos, shuddering.
At this, the peacock craned its neck and emitted a raucous call: Karawah, karawah, karawah!
Egil looked at the bird and burst out laughing. When Arin’s wide-eyed gaze fell upon him, Egil dropped to his knees and laughed all the harder, but managed to gasp out, “Adon, if we steal this thing, it’ll give us away with its shrieks.”
CHAPTER 39
With Egil on his knees, laughing, Arin said, “I do not plan on stealing it, chier, although we may take it with us. The queen shall have to consider it a loan for the greater good.” This caused Egil to roar all the harder, and he pointed to Arin and then to the peacock. As if sensing an insult, the fowl craned its neck and bugled a karawah, karawah, karawah! Egil whooped and fell over backward and laughed up at the sky, and Aiko and Alos joined in, Aiko tittering behind her hand, Alos cackling in glee. Arin was caught up in the gaiety, her silver laughter blending in. And the bird strutted around and peered accusingly at them as they guffawed and tears ran down their faces. Finally they got control of themselves and, wiping their eyes, they left the offended peacock behind, though now and again one or another would break into laughter and the others would grin in return. Even so, they continued their exploration of the grounds, noting any detail they thought might be useful should it come to fight or flight. They walked along the banquette ’round the outer bulwark, peering over the edge now and again to spy out places where they might drop to the ground if they needed to flee across the wall. “’Tis a thirty-foot fall, at best,” said Egil. “I think we’ll need a rope should we come this way.”
Aiko looked at Alos. “Can you manage a rope?”
“Oh, I can slide down one,” replied the oldster, then he looked at his hands, “but
I’ll need a pair of gloves. And climbing? Heh, I think I remember how; though strength plays a part, it’s mostly technique, y’ know.”
“Umn,” Egil grunted. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to climbing or sliding at all”—he grinned at the other three—“especially with a squawking bird in hand.”
Aiko smiled, then sobered and looked at Ann. “He does have a point, Dara: we wouldn’t want the bird to sound an alarm. Does the rutting peacock need be alive? If not, we can simply wring its neck.”
“We can knock it in the head and stuff it in the costume trunk,” suggested Alos.
Arin made a negating gesture. “We will merely hood it; then it will make no sound at all.”
Aiko glanced back at the distant mews. “Ah, like the raptors, yes?”
“Yes,” replied Arin. “Now let us go onward. If we must flee, there may be an easier way out than rappelling down a wall.”
They moved on ’round the banquette, as if out for a constitutional stroll, and when they came above the main entrance, they paused as if to rest. As they tarried, Egil talked casually with one of the guards, and discovered that the inner gate ordinarily was kept closed and the outer portcullis down, though during this time of celebration, queen’s merchants and her guests came and went frequently, as well as those invited to perform.
Refreshed by their so-called rest, Egil and the others strolled onward, and when they were beyond earshot, Alos said, “Heh, this will be even easier than expected. I mean, we’ll just come and go like the other entertainers. O’ course, when we go, we’ll have a hooded peacock hidden away, eh?”
Egil shook his head. “What you say is true on the surface, my friend, yet many a thing can go wrong ‘tween now and then. We need at least one other plan in case this one goes ill.” He turned to Arin. “I think I’ll see if Dolph can get us a rope. If he asks, I’ll say we need it for Aiko’s sword dancing tomorrow night.”
“Sword dancing!” exclaimed Aiko, her gaze growing hard. “Hear me: I demonstrate kenmichi, the way of the sword. It is not a dance…or if it is, it is a deadly one.”
Egil grinned and bowed. “My error, Lady Aiko.”
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